


my feet first, then yours

by goldminegoldmine



Series: ace jongin [3]
Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Aromantic, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Autochorissexual Character, Autochorissexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4190055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldminegoldmine/pseuds/goldminegoldmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into Taemin and Jongin's exploration of their physical relationship.</p><p>Companion to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3917218">pas de deux</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/chapters/7772753">mama called you baby center stage</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	my feet first, then yours

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically an ace/aro/auto sex scene, taekai figuring out boundaries and testing limits in a very best-friend-soulmates kind of way

Jongin finds Taemin after his practice. It’s late and Taemin knows it’s been a long day for both of them, knows all their limbs are sore and tired, but Jongin walks up to him with a spark in his eye and an arm ready to wrap around Taemin’s waist.

“Can we go back to your room?” he asks, bent close, words next to Taemin’s ear like a secret. Taemin gets an arm around Jongin’s shoulder and nods as he steers them away.

They haven’t settled into patterns. What Jongin wants varies too much. Day to day, depending on his mood, his blood alcohol content, the direction of the wind. Sometimes he’ll want to stay in bed for hours, touching Taemin, kissing him. Sometimes he won’t want to kiss at all. Sometimes it crosses over into the murky territory of sex, and sometimes it keeps just this side of platonic and intimate. Taemin loves it – he’s open. Always has been when it comes to Jongin.

Today, Taemin sits up against the headboard and Jongin sits in front of him, head tilted and hands folded like he’s studying Taemin. Contemplative.

“No one’s ever seen me naked before,” he says. It’s quietly offhand, nonchalant. Taemin’s spine contracts, surprise and anticipation and a too-deep inhale coursing through him at once. He looks at Jongin and waits for more.

Jongin bites his bottom lip and searches Taemin’s face for a moment. Taemin lets him, blinks slow and doesn’t wriggle away from the hot blood in his cheeks and neck.

“Well, I mean, obviously people have.” Jongin is playing with the hem of his shirt. “Changing or showering or whatever, you know. And I went skinny dipping once, but –”

“But this is different?” Taemin’s voice is rough and soft at the same time. He’s very aware of the way his tongue touches the inside of his lip as he speaks. It’s just a guess, but he’s known Jongin for a long time.

“This is different.”

Jongin is up on his knees in front of Taemin’s crossed legs. Taemin is in soft summer clothes.

Jongin, obviously, moves at a normal speed, but Taemin’s time slows down just a little as Jongin tangles his arms in his own shirt and pulls it off. His hair stands up. His shoulders are square; he’s sitting up so straight and it’s almost self-conscious except he looks rumpled and comfortable still. Taemin has seen Jongin shirtless more times than he can count, but he can’t help but gasp a little from the shallow end of his throat.

“Your turn,” Jongin says with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. He flicks his eyes down at Taemin’s chest. Taemin weighs his options. He takes a chance.

“Help me? I’m too comfortable, I can’t move.”

Jongin rolls his eyes but giggles once and shuffles forward, sheets gathering around his knees and coming with him.

“You’re too lazy, _sunbaenim_.”

Jongin’s sarcasm at the same time as his long hands curling in the front of Taemin’s shirt.

“Too famous now, can’t even undress yourself.”

Jongin tuts and tugs up and Taemin leans forward just enough for Jongin to pull his shirt off and away. It leaves Jongin, Taemin’s shirt clutched up in his fists, very close to Taemin’s face. He looks down at Taemin’s upper body again, then leans back.

“This is why I brought you onto my album, Jonginnie. I needed an assistant.”

Jongin smacks Taemin’s naked knee. “I was going to take my pants off but now I don’t want to. You don’t deserve it.”

Taemin puts his best pout on. The easy joking is making Jongin comfortable; it’s showing up in the way he sits back on his heels and lets his back hunch forward. Even as he undoes the button on his jeans he’s comfortable and Taemin is struck again by how much he wants Jongin to trust him like this.

In Taemin’s world this is flirting. He reads it like flirting, it sets all the little bells off ringing in his mind, but it’s different because it’s Jongin. This is the same teasing as always, just displaced to a bed with a few layers stripped away.

Jongin swings his legs off the bed just so he can push his jeans down them. The blue stripes on his briefs are almost exactly the color of Taemin’s boxers, and Taemin laughs. Jongin shoots him an affronted raised eyebrow, but Taemin just smiles wider.

“We match,” he says around a chuckle.

Then Jongin’s laughing too, bubbling up with it, surprised. He turns back to Taemin almost like a reflex with his laughter, and his hand fits around the top of Taemin’s right foot like a clamp. His laughs only sound a little bit hysterical. Taemin notes the sound and lets his own laughter die away, shrink into a comforting grin. Jongin’s hand goes gentle. His thumb strokes over Taemin’s foot.

It’s silent. Taemin is suddenly very aware of Jongin’s skin, soft-lit and brown, curving slightly over his belly and taut against his shins, his ankle bones. He tries not to stare too much, doesn’t want to push Jongin now when there’s so much closeness, so much more to see.

Jongin makes a little humming noise.

“What?” Taemin asks, voice as whispering as he can make it.

Jongin hums again. “I don’t know.” He reaches out, skips the pads of his fingers over Taemin’s breastbone. “You’re pretty.”

Taemin’s small smile grows. He attempts part of the Pretty Boy choreography just with his arms and head. Jongin pinches him. Taemin allows another short peal of laughter and then he sobers.

“Can I?” he asks, touching the smooth underside of Jongin’s wrist in question.

Jongin swallows but doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

He’s not even sure where to start, this opportunity almost too much for him to comprehend. Different from anything they’ve done. Colossal. Quiet. He reaches out for Jongin’s hips, leans forward enough so that he can reach without straining. Jongin’s skin is warm under a thin coating of cool air. He can feel Jongin’s hipbones, solid and curved and protected by gentle muscle. He moves his hands up so they can curl around Jongin’s waist.

Jongin isn’t shying away but he’s holding his arms awkwardly at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Taemin grabs one of Jongin’s hands in his own and laces their fingers together. Jongin squeezes like it’s involuntary and smiles. It’s grounding for Taemin too, knowing that Jongin is there with him and wanting this. It’s been silent between them; there’s only the tiny friction sound of skin lightly touching skin and the timid rustling of the sheets.

“What are you thinking?” Taemin asks, not wanting to take the moment away, just wanting more insight. This is all new for him too in a way.

“Mmm,” Jongin turns Taemin’s hand over and looks at it, tracing a few of the knuckles with his free hand. “I don’t know. I’m not thinking anything, really.”

Taemin lets his hand wander, dips it down to smooth over Jongin’s stomach, the easy natural form of the muscles there, the soft dark hairs. “What are you feeling?”

Jongin’s stomach contracts a little in surprise or maybe just pure reaction, but it relaxes again almost immediately. “I feel warm. Your hands are cool, though. It’s nice.”

Moving his hand up, Taemin lets his nails drag a little up Jongin’s abdomen. Jongin shivers, swallows, and says, “No one’s ever really touched me before.”

Taemin sucks in a breath, squeezes Jongin’s hand without meaning to. His other stills in the center of Jongin’s chest. “Do you want me to? Will you tell me if anything feels weird to you? Anything?”

He knows Jongin gave him permission, knows he wouldn’t be here in Taemin’s bed at all if he wasn’t okay with this, but it’s _Jongin_ who has trusted Taemin with his insecurity and his identity and now he’s sitting, warm and happy with Taemin’s hands on him and it’s almost too good to be true.

“I will, don’t worry. I want you to touch me.”

“God, don’t say things like that Jonginnie.” Taemin dips a finger into the hollow of Jongin’s throat, touches softly up to his jaw and fits his palm around it. He doesn’t mean to, but he says “You’re beautiful.”

Jongin squirms a little, habitually bites his lip, and doesn’t recoil. “Shh, I said you could touch me, I didn’t say you could embarrass me.”

Taemin smiles, thumbs across Jongin’s cheek. Jongin is closer now, knees bumping up against Taemin’s spread ones, sitting forward into his space. Taemin doesn’t have to stretch to reach him anymore.

“Sorry,” Taemin says, though he’s not. “I didn’t mean to say that, but it’s true.”

Jongin has never been overly invested in his looks but he knows the effect he has, he knows his face well and his body better, knows how he looks in a practice room mirror. He takes Taemin’s compliment easily, and takes Taemin’s paper-light touch to his top lip too. Taemin leans forward, bit by bit, until he can give Jongin’s mouth a slight, pressing kiss.

Jongin takes his hand away from Taemin’s grasp to curve it around the back of Taemin’s neck. They pull apart but stay close enough that Jongin goes a little cross-eyed looking down at Taemin’s mouth. Taemin giggles, kisses Jongin again, a featherweight firmer. Jongin pulls back, and he’s not smiling. He looks uncertain. Taemin’s heart beats quicker, and Jongin’s hand still moving just the littlest bit on his neck is the only thing that slows it.

There’s a beat or two of silence. Taemin lets the air out of his lungs, smiles at Jongin, ready to lie down and sleep and let their night end in soft resolution like they usually do. But Jongin speaks.

“Taemin-ah?”

“Hmm?”

“We could take our underwear off. If you want.”

Taemin sits up all the way, propping himself up. His chest brushes Jongin’s for the smallest second.

“Really?” He asks, caught off-guard.

“If you want,” Jongin repeats, a blush rising up into his face.

“If _you_ want, I want,” Taemin says, and it’s not the most eloquent thing, but it makes Jongin smile and reach out to snap the band of Taemin’s underwear against his belly.

“You first,” Jongin says.

Taemin doesn’t waste time, moves back just enough to get out of his boxers and re-fold his limbs. He doesn’t bother with self-consciousness. He’s long past that with Jongin. Jongin doesn’t look at him until after he’s unfolded his own legs and taken off his own underwear, moving quickly and gracefully. He sits back down, naked and only barely blushing in front of Taemin.

Not quite sure what to do, Taemin keeps his eyes on Jongin’s face. They aren’t touching anymore.

Jongin squirms a little and grimaces. “This is weird. Can we lie down?”

Taemin shifts and Jongin shifts with him so that they’re lying next to each other, facing the ceiling, all their skin out and open. Jongin shivers and Taemin brings the sheet up to cover their legs and hips. Their upper arms – Taemin’s left and Jongin’s right – press together.

“What are you thinking?” Taemin asks again.

Jongin turns over to his side and Taemin mirrors him, just a paper’s width between them now.

“I don’t know. It’s weird.” Jongin’s staring somewhere between Taemin’s chin and collarbone.

“Is it too weird? Do you want to get dressed? It’s fine, you know I don’t care –”

Jongin shakes his head, the front of his hair brushes tickling across Taemin’s face.

“No.”

Jongin surges forward then, presses his face against Taemin’s neck, under his chin. Taemin waits.

“It’s not too weird, it’s just. I sort of operate on fantasies, right? I think about stuff like this sometimes.” Jongin presses forward, all six feet of him lining up shockingly with Taemin. Their hips together, one of Jongin’s legs finding an accidental home between Taemin’s. Taemin can’t hold back the little sound in his chest as he feels the points and planes of Jongin’s naked body.

“I think about stuff like this but I never want it to actually happen. If I could describe it – it’s like I’m a fictional character or something, like I’m watching myself with someone else but I’m not actually thinking of it as _me_ , you know?”

Taemin doesn’t, but he nods against Jongin’s head.

“And then as soon as I try to picture it happening to me in real life I get uncomfortable. I don’t actually _want_ this.” Jongin shifts against Taemin for emphasis and Taemin gasps. “This is weird to me but right now it doesn’t _feel_ weird.”

Jongin finishes, mouth against Taemin’s throat, warm open breath fogging up Taemin’s skin. Jongin moves, then, props himself up on his elbow and takes the sheet away from them, looking at Taemin. Really looking for the first time, wide curious eyes down Taemin’s body, all the pieces of him laid out. Taemin keeps his eyes on Jongin’s face, watching him explore. Letting him set any pace. Jongin only blushes a little when his eyes pass down over Taemin’s crotch and back up. His hand settles in the dip of Taemin’s waist.

He smiles with his eyes and cheek and says, “You can look at me.”

Taemin shivers again and Jongin pulls away enough to let him. Let him look all up and down Jongin’s body, his soft safe chest, the way his stomach muscles shift and settle as he lays on his side like this. The peak of his hip bone and the other one sunken into the mattress. His cock lying relaxed against his thigh. The patterns of the hair on his legs. His feet flexing and pointing with nerves though his breathing is even.

“I like you looking at me,” Jongin says softly. Taemin has to kiss him.

They press together from head to toe again and Jongin’s tongue is slick and hot in Taemin’s mouth and Taemin is half-hard already. It’s exhilarating, the fact that he can’t hide it from Jongin like this. The fact that Jongin isn’t moving away at all, his thigh firm against Taemin’s cock, fingers digging into Taemin’s back. Taemin pulls away.

“Hey,” he says, stopping Jongin’s hands and most of his motion. “Tell me what you want?”

Jongin is looking at Taemin’s mouth. “I want this.”

“I know, but. How much do you want of this?”

Jongin traces up his spine. “I don’t know. I want to keep touching you for a while. I want you to feel good.”

Taemin shifts against Jongin’s leg. “You know I feel good.”

Jongin blushes but says, “I feel good too. I don’t know if I want – I don’t know if I want to get off, but I don’t mind if you do. You know. Like this.” He presses up with his thigh and Taemin moans.

“Are you sure?”

Jongin just shifts the pressure again, kisses Taemin’s nose and says, “You can move.”

So Taemin does, starts to roll his hips against Jongin’s, his cock so hard now and getting Jongin’s thigh sticky and slick. He lets his hands wander, skipping up Jongin’s arm, his shoulders, gripping in his hair. Touching soft to the corner of Jongin’s wide, enthralled mouth. He braves a hand down Jongin’s back and over the curve of his ass, taking his answering whine in with his next breath.

They’re both breathing hard, and Taemin can feel Jongin mostly hard and pressing on his hip, though Jongin doesn’t seem to notice. He doesn’t seek out more friction than Taemin is already giving.

“Jongin –“ Taemin’s breath catches and he cries out quietly. “Jongin-ah, can I –“

Jongin presses an exploratory kiss to the side of his jaw.

“Can I come like this?”

Lips still against Taemin’s face, Jongin says, “Yeah.”

And Taemin does, come spreading over Jongin’s thigh and onto the sheet below them, hand gripping tight in Jongin’s hair. He’s still shaking a little when Jongin pulls back and looks down with furrowed eyebrows, reaches with just the tip of his finger to touch the mess on his leg. He grimaces and wipes his finger off on the sheet.

“Gross,” he says, but his tone is light. Taemin feels lucky.

Jongin moves to stand and Taemin pouts up at him. “Don’t leave me,” he whines.

“I want to shower,” Jongin says. “You made me gross.”

Taemin just keeps pouting.

Jongin says, “Do you want to shower with me?”

Taemin grins and nods, jumping up as quickly as he can on still shaky feet. He grabs Jongin’s wrist in his hand to keep him, and follows.


End file.
